


Clowns are the Pegs on which the Circus is Hung

by testicularContortions



Series: Entertain a Clown and You Become Part of the Circus [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Author is trans, Breeding Kink, Circus, Clowns, Creampie, Degradation, Glove Kink, Masks, No Negotiation, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pregnancy Risk, Some Good Old Fashioned Clown Fuckin', Trans Male Character, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, dubcon, i don't presume to know the genders of mysterious clowns, medical transitioning (testosterone), mild exhibitionism, starts as noncon but moves quickly into dubcon territory, trans male character's bits being referred to as clit/cunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:21:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23103145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/testicularContortions/pseuds/testicularContortions
Summary: The circus is in town, and Beck, a trans man who has recently started testosterone, decides to attend it one night with his friends. Unfortunately, his hormones have thrown his libido out of wack, so he finds himself sneaking away in the middle of the performance to find somewhere private to give himself some relief.Someone finds him there and kindly lends him a hand.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Unknown Character
Series: Entertain a Clown and You Become Part of the Circus [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939411
Comments: 44
Kudos: 439





	Clowns are the Pegs on which the Circus is Hung

**Author's Note:**

> I was ranting to my friend about how no one seems to do clown porn the way I want them to, so I realized I had to take matters into my own hands. This work is heavily influenced by the Stranger from the Magnus Archives.
> 
> My friend who beta read this summed it up very well: "Imagine getting fucked by a clown and then you can’t tell anyone, like how do you move on as a person"

The area under the circus’ stands looks like it’s mostly used to store unused props and empty containers during the show. Beck looks around at the crates and wooden supports surrounding him before deciding that this is as good of a spot as he’s likely to find. There shouldn’t be anyone wandering around this part of storage while the show is going on. With one last look around, he reaches down to undo his belt. The soft zip of his pants opening is concealed by the murmuring crowd and trilling music above his head, but to Beck, it is scandalously loud. Incriminating.

“God, am I really doing this?” he mutters to himself even as his hand reaches under the elastic of his underwear. He grinds the heel of his palm against his clit, and his own quiet, needy groan gives him his answer.

He’s already wet when his fingers move to rub against his aching clit, evidence that he has already gotten off a few times today. He knew that going on T would affect his libido, but this is getting ridiculous. He snuck away from his friends in the middle of the performance to jack off, for Christ’s sake.

His breath is just starting to catch as he rubs gently at his sensitive clit when he moves his head to the side. He can’t be sure what prompted him to look in that direction, but his eyes immediately catch on the figure standing among the storage crates.

A jolt runs through him, stopping his hand in its tracks. The figure is stationary at first, but once they see they have his attention, they begin moving towards him.

“O-oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Beck splutters, “I’ll leave, I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea please don’t kick me out, I-”

His breath catches, cutting him off. The figure is now close enough for Beck to identify them as one of the clowns that had performed earlier in the evening. They are wearing the same outfit as the others: a red and black striped costume with long coat tails and gaudy white frills around the collars and sleeves. Instead of makeup, the clowns in this circus are all adorned with matching masks.

The mask itself seems to intentionally walk the line between familiar and disconcerting. It’s white, with only the faint impressions of a face shape and features painted over it in stark red and black. The eyes are closed like a cat blinking happily, and the mouth is a wide, cheerful grin sitting underneath a cherry red nose.

The clown is now right in front of him, and they still haven’t spoken. Belatedly, Beck realizes his hand is still in his pants.

He yanks it out like he’s been scalded, stammering, “Seriously I’m sorry, I’ll just lea-”

Something wraps around his wrist, and it takes him a moment to realize it’s the clown’s gloved hand, gripping him securely. They are now definitely invading his personal space, towering over him and crowding him against the wooden crate he had been leaning against. He can feel the weight of their attention on him despite their mask’s closed eyes.

The crowd roars again above them, deafening, and the shiver of unease Beck has been feeling since the appearance of the figure solidifies into dread.

His eyes scan his surroundings, but there is no one in sight and nothing he could use to defend himself. No one will be able to hear him, either, if he calls out. He curses his T-induced libido for making him think with his dick instead of his brain. The clown’s grinning mask watches him, their expression simultaneously mocking and unreadable. Waiting for him to make a move.

Beck jerks his arm suddenly in an attempt to get away, but the clown is faster. They press him bodily against the crate, pinning his arm above him. Their other hand snakes in between the two of them, and Beck’s free hand desperately tries to stop it, but their fingers press against his cunt and he finds himself grabbing a fistful of their jacket instead. He’d been getting close before they found him, and he is aching for touch.

“No, wait,” he says, but his voice has gone all wobbly.

If the clown is surprised by what they find in his pants, they don’t show it. Their satin gloved fingers are steady as they make their way under his waistband. Beck jerks automatically when those fingers come in contact with his sensitive clit. The satin is smooth, but it feels unbearably rough against him even as it's quickly becoming soaked.

It’s all too- too much. He opens his mouth to say “stop,” but all that comes out is strangled whine as he flinches away again.

His assailant doesn’t seem to care as Beck struggles to get away from their exploring fingers. In fact, his squirming seems to encourage them to rub them more firmly against him, until he’s gasping for breath. His hips are moving desperately of their own accord, but Beck can’t tell if he’s trying to get away from the intense sensation or chasing it. The feeling builds until there’s a roaring in his ears (or is that the crowd?) and he feels like he’s standing at the edge of a precipice. His lips are moving, pleading for the stranger to pleasepleaseplease let him cum, and he’d be mortified if he was present enough to hear himself over all the noise.

Abruptly, the fingers at his clit stop, and Beck’s eyes fly open. When had he closed them? When the clown sees that they have his attention, they pointedly renew their ministrations. The message is clear even without words: _look at me_. Beck whimpers as he stares at the mask hovering inches away from his face. Their placid, grinning expression is a mocking contrast to how wrecked he feels. He knows he must be a sight: flushed red, sweat glistening on his forehead, his lips parted with ragged, gasping breaths. The sight of the unaffected, uncaring mask watching him come apart, combined with the slick roughness of their gloved fingers pressing against his aching clit finally sends him over the edge, and he cums with a broken moan.

When he manages to unscramble his thoughts, Beck finds himself lying bonelessly on a different crate. This one is at about table height, and his legs hang over the side. The clown stands between his legs, keeping them open when he instinctively tries to close them. They loom over him, placing two of their fingers in his still-open mouth while their other hand tugs his pants and underwear down. Beck weakly thrashes away, but the hand at his face only presses down more firmly, making him gasp and close his mouth around the fingers. He tastes his own slick and whines as his cunt clenches down on nothing in response.

The clown’s other hand, meanwhile, rubs lazy circles around his clit, never quite overstimulating him but coming achingly, unbearably close.

Beck flinches when they remove their hand from between his legs. He lifts his head to see the clown pulling down their pants, but their other hand covers his mouth and pushes him back down before he can get a glimpse of what lies underneath.

Beck braces himself for them to finger him open while wearing the gloves, but when he feels something blunt and smooth pressing against his soaked cunt instead, his heart leaps into his throat for an entirely different reason. Surely they won’t-

His hands scrabble for purchase against the wood of the crate as, slowly, the stranger pushes into him. There’s a moment of resistance and then suddenly they’re _in_ , with an accompanying burn as his hole is stretched without any prep. He lets out a hoarse yell that is muffled by the clown’s hand, not that it was necessary given the cheers from the crowd above them. His synapses are firing with enough pain and pleasure to make him dizzy, and he has to focus on relaxing his muscles. He spares a moment to be thankful for his T-induced libido keeping him wet and ready enough to not be seriously hurt by this, but then the stranger continues pushing into him, and all thought leaves his mind again.

Beck feels his legs straining and trembling against the crate, and his breath is coming in quick little gasps. He suddenly feels so full, the aching emptiness inside him finally satisfied as the clown bottoms out inside of him. His cries turn into a heady groan when he feels the tip of their dick nestle right up against the deepest part of him.

He isn’t on any birth control, and he hasn’t been on T long enough for his period to stop – there’s still a very real possibility of him getting pregnant. He should push the clown away. His hands are free, and his legs have enough leverage to get a good kick in, he thinks. But when they start moving, pulling out until the head of their cock drags at his entrance before thrusting, hard, back into him, Beck finds himself clutching at their jacket and moaning obscenely. He can feel the last of his restraint being fucked out of him with every thrust.

He can feel the weight of their gaze on him, their mask giving away none of what they are feeling. He can’t hear the stranger’s breathing over the din above them, but he imagines that it is calm and unhurried. Their thrusts are punishing, but almost mechanical for how controlled they are. Desperation is clawing its way up Beck’s throat, but the only indication that the clown feels it too is the intensity with which they pound themself into his waiting cunt.

A hand clutches him by the chin and firmly drags his gaze back to where the clown’s wide grin is hovering over him. Once again, their meaning is clear without words: _I said_ **_look_ ** _at me_.

Beck obediently focuses on the unmoving expression of their mask, staring mesmerized while the clown’s thrusts force little choked moans and gasps out of him, and _that_ seems to finally create a crack in their composure. They maneuver his thighs so they rest on their shoulders and lean further over him, pressing him even more firmly into the rough wood of the crate. Their thrusts start to lose their rhythm, clearly chasing their own completion.

His hands are free, and Beck takes advantage of this to wrap his arms around their neck and drag them down the remaining few inches so he can press his lips against their false mouth in a sloppy, desperate kiss. The clown falters for a second, and Beck feels a spark of pride for causing it, before they catch their rhythm again. They pound into him harder, pressing even further into him, and he stops kissing their mask to moan deeply.

He can feel his orgasm looming like a tidal wave, but it never quite crashes around him. The words pouring out of his mouth against the stranger’s mask become an unintelligible stream of, “Pleaseplease I need you to touch me, touch my clit please let me cum pleaseplease oh god, oh please fuck-”

There is something, something important, that his mind is screaming at him to remember, but suddenly those satin gloved fingers soaked with his own slick are pressing roughly against his clit again, and the clown thrusts once, twice, three times into him before going still. Tears spring into Beck’s eyes as he feels pulse after pulse of warm cum shoot into him where the clown’s bare cock is pressed directly against the deepest part of him, and he howls with his second orgasm just as the crowd breaks into deafening applause. The world around him goes white.

He comes back into himself when the clown pulls out of him. With efficient movements, they tuck themself back into their pants. Then they bring their soaked hand up to caress his cheek before ruffling his hair. Their grinning mask with its closed eyes seems all the more condescending with the evidence of his kiss shining on it. _Good boy_ , they seem to mock while they ruffle his hair like he is a particularly beloved pet.

They wipe their mask and stand up to their full height, and Beck _hates_ them, because there is no sign they ever lost their composure. Their outfit is back in place, and as long as no one inspects their gloves too closely, no one will be any the wiser as to what they have gotten up to. Beck, meanwhile, is a mess. Cum and slick are leaking out of him, he’s flushed and covered in sweat, and he can feel his hair sticking up where the stranger so kindly rubbed his own slick into it.

The clown pantomimes tipping a hat to him, and leaves without a backwards glance at him as he lies debauched and trembling on the crate. They disappear into the shadows long before he even contemplates moving.

* * *

Beck rejoins his friends right at the end of the show. He self-consciously smooths his hair down and hopes the smell of popcorn and frying food is covering the scent of sex lingering around him. His clothes are as fixed as he could get them, but there wasn’t much he could do about the damp spot at his crotch. His jacket is tied around his waist in an attempt to cover it.

“There you are!” Caleb exclaims. “We thought you’d gotten overstimulated and went somewhere quieter, but you didn’t answer our texts.”

‘Overstimulated,’ he thinks, twitching slightly as he shifts his stance and feels his oversensitive clit brush against his damp underwear. Out loud, he says, “Yeah sorry for worrying you, I had my phone on silent and got distracted.”

“What did you get distracted by?” Julia asks.

Beck thinks of a blank grinning mask. He thinks of gloved hands. He thinks of the cum sitting inside him at this very moment, some of it slowly trickling out.

“Just talking to someone.”

Julia huffs an exasperated laugh. "Well you missed the finale. All that's left now is for the cast to come take their bows."

Beck claps enthusiastically for the acrobats and dancers, sinking gradually back into a more relaxed frame of mind. Until, that is, the clowns come back into the ring for their share of the applause.

There are about a dozen of them, and they are almost perfectly identical. He can't even tell which ones are the right height from this distance - there is no way of knowing which of them had found him underneath the stands. He doesn't even know for sure that the clown he encountered is in this lineup. They might not have performed tonight.

His clit throbs.

**Author's Note:**

> If you saw this fic, thought to yourself, "No, I'm not going to read clown porn," eventually caved, and are now reluctantly horny about clowns, you are contractually obligated to give me kudos. And a comment, pretty please? Support your local smut peddlers
> 
> Thanks for reading! ^w^ This is my first nsfw piece, so I appreciate any and all feedback!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [a splendid time is guaranteed for all](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23321638) by [hunted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunted/pseuds/hunted)




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